Sharland. "No, we shall use a ring such as has never been used before, because our union is unlike all other unions. Will this do?" He drew the link of an iron chain from his pocket.
"This is a link broke off my brother's fetters. I picked it up on the sea-wall this morning. Will it do? "
"It must do for want of a better," said the curate.
Elijah threw it on the book; then placed it on Mehalah's finger, with a subdued laugh. "Our bond. Glory," he said, in a low tone, "is not of gold, but of iron."
CHAPTER XXIV
THE VIAL OF WRATH
Elijah Rebow, in the pride and ostentation of his heart, had invited the curate, the clerk, Mrs. De Witt, Farmer Goppin, Reuben Grout, innkeeper of the Rising Sun, and several others to eat and drink with him and his bride at Red Hall after the ceremony. The marriage had taken place in the afternoon. The law in Marshland was flexible as osier—it must bend to man's convenience, not man submit to law.
Mrs. De Witt took the management of everything out of the hands of the feeble Mrs. Sharland. "You're not up to the job," she said. "It wants someone with eyes in her elbows and as many legs as a crab."
Mrs De Witt was everywhere, in the kitchen, the hall, the oak parlour. She had pinned up her silk dress about her, so that it might take no harm.
"There," said she to the assembled guests, as she brought in a pail full of shrimps and set it on the table. "Stay your appetites on them, and imitate the manners of high society, which always begins with fish and works up to solids. I brought them myself as my contribution to the feast. Do you, Elijah, hand a wet round; if the others be like me they are dry. Marriage, as I always found it, is a dry job."
"Where is Glory?" asked Elijah.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Mrs. De Witt. "That is like
